


Trust and Honesty

by TheMightyFlynn



Category: Saints Row
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Male Character, Boss and Lin are bros, Canon-Typical Gang Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Homophobic Language, M/M, Major Character Injury, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Panic Attacks, Slow Burn, possible PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:42:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22022002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMightyFlynn/pseuds/TheMightyFlynn
Summary: Dominic Ellis moved back to his birth town from London after the death of his father. He didn't know what to expect from his new life, but finding the sense of belonging he was missing from a street gang definitely wasn't it.
Relationships: Aisha (Saints Row)/Johnny Gat, Donnie/Lin (Saints Row), Male Boss (Saints Row)/Troy Bradshaw
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	1. A New Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> **Please read these before starting the fic!**  
>  1\. The Boss here is British, so everything from his POV will be written in British English, with references to the differences between British and American life.
> 
> 2\. The POV will switch to other characters at some point. Not just Troy, but other characters as well.
> 
> 3\. I am _not_ aiming for real-life accuracy here! I want to stick close-ish to the canon, with the exception being the main relationship, so everything will be a little OTT.
> 
> 4\. Some of the missions from the games will either be changed to suit what I need, or skipped over entirely. Some of them are just not relevant to this story.
> 
> 5\. *Added on after posting first chapter. I wish there was a tag for MCD that included that it wasn't part of the main pairing. Neither Troy nor the Boss will die in this fic. You'll understand later on why I tagged it as _Major_ Character Death, not minor, though. :)
> 
> Thanks for reading! :D

Michigan in summer was _hot_. No matter what anyone said, Dominic was suffering. Lying spreadeagle on the ratty mattress he had thrown on the floor of the… well, he hesitated to call it a flat that he had rented. One room, which served as his bedroom, kitchen, and living rooms, plus a bathroom. That was it. But, the _heat_!

Having landed at the airport from London – Whitechapel, to be exact – he had expected average temperatures. Supposedly, temperatures in Stilwater were roughly the same as those in London. Lies! Sitting up, he yanked the black t-shirt he wore up and over his head, wincing as he felt the drag of wet material along the back of his neck.

 _Eighty-five degrees_ , the radio announcer had said on his way home that afternoon. A quick calculation translated that into about thirty. _Thirty_! He had never been in thirty-degree temperatures before. Ever. This was torture. Flinging himself back onto the mattress, he groaned. Something scuttled off to his right, causing him to throw an arm over his eyes, determinedly ignoring whatever it was.

_Fucking roaches._

This was not how he had pictured his homecoming. Well, technically it was a homecoming. Having spent the past twenty-one out of his twenty-three years on the earth living in London, he was unsure whether he could still count Stilwater as his 'home'. There was nothing left for him back in London, however; hadn't been since his father had died the previous year. He'd had no friends, and no relations to miss him or tie him down.

_A new beginning._

He snorted in disgust. That was what he had wanted. No, needed. There was _nothing_ for him back home. Nothing. He'd been alone in a large city with no hope for… well, anything, really. He'd been doing odd jobs that no one else had wanted to do, each of varying legality. He wasn't educated enough for the high-paying jobs, and had absolutely no interest in learning to become a barista, or working in retail. He probably would have strangled someone and ended up in prison. Not an option that appealed to him. And as for relationships…

Dominic snorted again. He couldn't bring himself to trust anyone enough to have anything beyond a one-night stand. It was a problem, he knew. Well, not so much a _problem_ as a frustration. The prostitutes he visited satisfied him, which was the point. But having something deeper than that had proven impossible so far. His trust issues ran too deeply for him to develop a true relationship with anyone. The _something_ scuttled again and Dominic thumped the hand that had been over his eyes onto the mattress. Shoving himself to his feet, he stomped off into the bathroom.

This room was tiny as well. Tiny and dingy, with peeling paint and who knew how many years' worth of mould on the grout. Turning the tap on in the sink, he cupped his hands and splashed his face with cold water. He ran his wet hands down his neck and onto his chest, trying to cool himself off a little. With a sigh, he placed his hands on the rim of the sink and leant forward, staring at his reflection in the mirror.

According to his father, he had the same dark skin tone as his mother. Not that he remembered her, but he figured it was something nice. A remembrance, of sorts. Her death had been the reason he and his father had buggered off back to London when Dominic had been two. His father hadn't been able to deal with the memories, supposedly. Well. Dominic wasn't burdened with anything like that. A vague sense of rose-scented perfume and a soft singing voice were the memories he carried of his mother. There was nothing here in Stilwater that he associated with either of his parents. With the exception of his skin tone, which wasn't as unusual here as it had been in London. Leaning further forward, he frowned.

Water droplets clung to his bushy black eyebrows. A thin, dark scar ran through his left brow, slicing down almost to his eyelid. The deep green eyes he had inherited from his father looked almost brown that day. His teeth were crooked, with a gap between the front two. Freckles – another legacy from his father – dotted his nose and cheeks. His hair… Well, he didn't really bother with it, most of the time. It flopped down over his eyes, framed his face, or hid him from the rest of the world. It had grown down to just past his shoulders in the past year, long and wavy and a black so dark it appeared nearly blue, in the right light. He was severely average to his eyes. Perhaps that also played a part in his lack of a relationship: fuck ugly people tended to not be that popular as partners. He flicked his tongue, pressing the ball of the piercing there through his lips. It had started as a nervous habit, almost like licking his lips. Clenching his teeth, he forced himself to stop. Shoving back, he straightened up.

He needed to get out of here. Maybe grab some food, visit one of the prostitutes he had become familiar with since his arrival. Yes. That was a good plan. Food and sex. Or, well, he reconsidered as he moved into the other room to grab his discarded t-shirt, maybe just the sex. Food could wait. It was too bloody hot for him to be hungry anyway.

Harrowgate had the best pros Dominic had seen in the city. They seemed clean, and were relatively attractive. Problem was, Harrowgate was a fair distance to walk. He had to get past the rundown old church, under the trainline and freeway, then down near the garage.

 _Rim Jobs_.

Dominic grinned to himself as he locked the front door. What they could get away with naming things here had amazed him when he had first arrived. _Tee'N'Ay, Rim Jobs, Technically Legal, On the Rag_ … He shook his head. A lot of people back home would have had a conniption if shops with those names had opened up there.

The trip was relatively uneventful. Dominic kept his eyes on the people and the cars around him, simply watching as they interacted. The Saints Row district in general was fairly rundown. Graffiti covered many surfaces, and bullet holes riddled a lot of the abandoned shopfronts. Of course, the gang activity didn't help that. In fact… He slowed a little as he caught a flash of yellow up ahead of him.

 _Vice Kings_.

His hands flexed by his side as he watched the three men wandering down the street. They moved slowly, almost swaggering along as if they owned the entire world. He'd managed to stay out of any of that sort of trouble back home, despite his upbringing. Not that he was averse to the idea of having people he could trust having his back, but… He shook his head as the men turned the corner ahead of him. Forcing his attention back to the people around him, he took in the scenery.

There wasn't much traffic around at that time of night, thankfully. People, however, still walked the streets, either making their way home, or just beginning their work. A watch seller a few doors down from where Dominic stood on the corner called to the people passing. An elderly couple shuffled along on the opposite side of the road, making their way past two men. The taller man… Dominic blinked. Was he wearing a fucking _driving cap_? Shaking his head, he refocussed. The man nodded to the couple, who shuffled on faster. It was the second man who drew Dominic's attention, however. He looked twitchy, nervous, his eyes flitting all over the place. He shifted his weight from foot-to-foot and bounced on the balls of his toes. It wasn't until his darting gaze landed on Dominic that he truly _focussed_ on him, however.

_Fuck me, he's pretty._

Blondes had never really been Dominic's thing, but… Yes, the dancing of his insides definitely told him that that may change, given the opportunity. Heat crept slowly up his chest as Pretty Boy's dark gaze settled on him. He stilled, his nervous energy seeming to drain out of him as he stared. A cigarette dangled from his lips, and the tip bobbed as he offered Dominic a raise of his eyebrows and a slight nod.

Dominic broke eye contact immediately. Ducking his head, he shoved his hands into his pockets and turned, making his way towards the watch seller. He frowned, his body tingling. He'd been with men before. Not since he had arrived in Stilwater, but still. The fact that he found a random man attractive shouldn't have been a surprise. The thought that he wouldn't mind a tumble with Pretty Boy instead of the prostitute he was heading towards crossed his mind, but he pushed it aside. Hitting on strangers had never been easy for him, especially ones who looked that twitchy and nervous. Who knew what him and Driving Cap were up to on that street so late at night? Shaking his head as he passed the watch seller, he stepped up to the prostitute.

"Hey baby, I could show you a good time…"

Dominic grinned, all thoughts of Pretty Boy, Driving Cap, and the Vice Kings fleeing his mind. He lifted his chin and stared down at her through his lashes, still grinning.

"Yeah? Tell me. What do you want to do to me?"

The prostitute moved closer. "Oh, honey, you've never had _anyone_ like me before. I'll show you things you never even _dreamed_ of…"

Dominic reached out, tracing a finger down the woman's arm. His tongue flicked out, wetting his lips as his eyes dragged down her body. The tingle that had run through him earlier only increased as she stepped even closer. A quick flash of blue out of the corner of his eye distracted him, however.

"You fucking…!"

A man wearing blue rushed past Dominic, giving him a shove as he passed. He was followed quickly by one of the men wearing yellow Dominic had seen earlier, who threw a spray can at his back. Dominic's eyes widened.

 _Westside Rollerz_.

He had just enough time to acknowledge that this was probably not a situation he should be in before a red car came screeching down the street. The tires slid on the road as the driver hit the brakes.

_Red. Los Carnales. What is with all the primary colours this lot prefer?_

Dominic's mind began to race. The Carnales had guns. People were beginning to scream. His heartrate kicked up a few notches as the Vice Kings and remaining Rollerz pulled their pieces as well.

"Hector says ' _Buenas noches…_ '"

Dominic's eyes widened. The sound of the bullets now zinging around the street was enough to make his ears ring. He ducked, covering his head with his arms, the prostitute next to him completely forgotten. Bullets screeched as they hit the metal of the car. Dominic's mind narrowed to one thing and one thing only: _I have to escape_.

Another flash of blue, this time to his right, distracted him again. The Rollerz member who had run down past him not a minute before was now holding some kind of what looked to be a machinegun. He pointed it at the car, yelling something unintelligible. Dominic ducked.

"Run!"

He had no idea who it was who had screamed the order, but he obeyed it. Keeping his head down, he ran across the street, away from the spray of bullets. He was too late, however, as the red car flew down the street straight towards him. He dove, but the bumper clipped his leg, sending him to the ground.

"Die!"

Dominic rolled over, eyes wide. The Roller – _Rollerz_? How did they refer to themselves? – with the machinegun was standing over the now-dead body of the Carnale in the car. Nausea rose in Dominic's throat. The metallic scent of blood was beginning to seep through the street, invading his senses. A gun came into his line of sight and the shot that rang out ended the Roller's life. Dominic tried to scramble backwards, but his leg prevented it.

"Wrong time, wrong place, dawg."

Dominic closed his eyes. The hammer clicked back. A shot rang out, but there was no pain. Blackness. That was it.

"You okay, Playa?"

Dominic cautiously opened his eyes. Blinking, he tried to focus. The lights of the street swam before his eyes, flaring in time with his heartbeat.

 _Heartbeat. Not dead_.

Driving Cap knelt before him. He was an older man, with skin a slightly darker shade than Dominic's own. A concerned look crinkled his brows. A heavy, expensive-looking gold chain swung from his neck. Dominic shivered. Driving Cap offered him his hand.

"Julius, let's move," Pretty Boy, standing on the road behind Driving Cap, twitchy as ever, muttered.

Driving Cap took Dominic's arm and hauled him to his feet. His legs didn't want to work. Leaning heavily on the offered shoulder, he attempted to walk. Just as they reached the curb, the car behind them exploded, flinging all three of them forward. Dominic hit the pavement with a grunt.

"That don't look too bad, you should be fine," Driving Cap murmured to him, dragging Dominic's attention back to him. He knelt and nodded over his shoulder to where Pretty Boy stood, gun in hand, his gaze again flicking everywhere. "That's Troy. You can thank him later."

Pretty Boy's gaze fixed on Dominic and, once again, he seemed to still. It was only a couple of seconds, but heat flooded Dominic's system, causing his cheeks to burn. He clenched his teeth. Pretty Boy waved his left hand – the one holding the gun – in his direction. He seemed to remember that the gun was there only when Dominic flinched. He dropped it with a small frown.

"Hey."

Dominic swallowed and nodded. He tried to take a deep breath, but his chest had tightened too much. Clenching his hands dragged his nails along the concrete beneath him, sending tiny jolts of pain through him.

"The Row ain't safe no more, son," Driving Cap stated. "We got gang's fightin' over shit that ain't theirs, and you in the way. They don't care if you representin' or not."

_Representing?_

It was then that Dominic recalled mentions of a fourth gang in Stilwater, ones who wore purple. A quick glance over to Pretty Boy confirmed his suspicions: he wore a shirt with a purple stripe across the middle. These two were from this fourth gang. He tried again to push himself up a little and again failed.

"Julius, this is no time to recruit."

Pretty Boy's eyes had not stopped darting all over the street. Dominic could see why, as he had just shot a gang member in the back of the head to save a complete stranger. Still, it was strange. Why would a supposedly hardened criminal – which is what these people all were, from what he had been told – be so nervous? Especially one who was standing with another member of his own gang at his side? Driving Cap shot a look back at Pretty Boy that had him twitching again.

"We need all the help we can get, son."

"No." Pretty Boy leant forward, dark eyes intense. Dominic held his breath. "We need to get our asses outta here."

"In a minute!" Driving Cap returned his attention to Dominic. "Look, the Row's got a problem. Come to the church when you want to be a part of the solution."

With that, he stood and turned. Pretty Boy let out a breath as Driving Cap began to march purposefully down the street. He shot another look Dominic's way, with another raise of his eyebrows. Dominic nodded in response, not knowing how else to react. The breath he held released as soon as they had turned the corner out of his sight.

It took a few minutes for Dominic to be able to move at all. The smell of the burning petrol was seeping down the street. Sirens in the distance told him that both the police and fire brigade were going to be there soon. He didn't want to get caught up in all that, however. Forcing himself to his feet, he hobbled to the corner and around into an abandoned alley.

It was then that everything caught up with him. Bending double, he heaved, retching up what little he had had to eat that day.


	2. Choices, Choices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has read this so far! The pace will be picking up a little more from now on. :)

_I nearly died last night._

Dominic had never had a gun pointed at him before. Well, no. That was a lie. He had never had a _handgun_ pointed at him before. His father had had a sporting license and had taken Dominic with him on a couple of hunts. Teenagers would be teenagers, and rifles had been swung and pointed at heads and torsos. They had been punished for it, of course, but that experience meant that he knew how to handle a hunting rifle safely. Handguns, however, had been banned for personal ownership in Britain since Dominic had been in secondary school. Not even the police carried them. And as for dead bodies… He let out a shaky breath as he leant forward to rest his forehead on the cool glass of his bathroom mirror.

The only dead body he had ever seen had been that of his father's the previous year. He had had to pick the lock – a rather useful talent he had picked up in school – to get into his father's flat after he had stopped answering the phone. The sight before him on the kitchen floor had not been pretty. Dominic swallowed as images of his father's body mingled in his mind with the splattering of brains and blood he had seen the previous night.

This time when he vomited, it was purely stomach acid. He had not been able to convince himself to eat anything, knowing that it would just end up in the toilet anyway. Running his tongue along the top of his mouth, he grimaced.

"Toothbrush…"

A disadvantage of having a tongue piercing was when shit like this happened. Standing on shaky legs, he brushed his teeth yet again, then rinsed thoroughly with mouthwash. The piercing was a few years old, but he figured there was no point in taking chances.

"Disgusting."

Pushing back from the sink, he moved out into the other room. His clothing from the day before lay in a pile on the floor near the front door. He had not had the courage to look it all over and see whether there was blood on them yet. In fact, he was seriously considering just throwing it all out. He didn't need the reminder of what had happened. Not yet, anyway.

_Come to the church when you want to be a part of the solution._

The offer seemed open-ended to Dominic. It had only been one day, however. He needed time and space. There was no point in showing up to the church only to vomit all over a gang leader's shoes. Not that he had decided whether he was going to actually accept the offer or not yet. But… He shook his head. He needed to get out of this house.

Throwing on a fresh t-shirt, he locked up and began to walk. He had yet to find himself a car. Or the money to buy one, for that matter. He could, of course, just take one. It wouldn't be the first time, after all. In fact, he had been boosting cars for a little extra money for one of the local garages. But, with the amount of people who carried guns here, he was a little hesitant to actually jack a car from someone who was still behind the wheel. Taking a car from someone who could only scream and beat him with their fists was a little different to taking one from someone who could just shoot him for his effort. If he could find one that was unattended, however…

He pulled to a stop just outside a parking lot. There weren't too many cars in the lot, but he ran his eyes over what was there. The first thing to draw his attention was a Bootlegger. It was all shiny green paint, with a black racing stripe and windows tinted so dark a colour he couldn't see inside. American muscle cars weren't really his thing, but he could appreciate the beauty of something like that. With the right engine, these things purred wonderfully.

"Maybe later, my love…"

His gaze drifted. If the Bootlegger didn't have an alarm, there was something seriously wrong with the owner. What his eyes fell upon caused him to smile.

"Oh, yes."

One of his father's friends had owned an Ant when he was a teenager. Not just any Ant, however, but one that had been modified for off-roading. It had been one of the best little cars Dominic had seen. Stepping up to the Ant, he ran his hands over the roof. It was old and rusted. No paint was left on any surface, as far as he could tell. There was a good shell of a car here, however. It looked like it hadn't been cared for in many long years, though. Maybe… _maybe_. Slipping his hand down, he tested the door.

_Locked._

"Bugger."

He glanced around. There was one method of getting into someone else's car – without smashing the window – that he knew, but he was unsure whether it would work on this particular car. There was an elderly man wandering slowly down the street, but he was about to turn the corner. No one else seemed to be around. Dominic snatched the aerial from the hood of the Ant once he was alone and inserted it into the doorhandle. He jiggled it around, waiting for the lock to begin to jiggle with the movement. It didn't take long. Grinning, he opened the door and hotwired the car. Its engine spluttered a couple of times, but caught.

"Ohh, _yes_ …"

Driving on the righthand side of the road had proven a difficult task to get used to. Everything here had seemed designed to throw him off when he had first arrived. He knew his destination, however, and he set the car off towards the nearest freeway onramp. The car ran relatively smoothly, considering the condition it was in.

"You'll be a good girl eventually, won't you?"

He ran his hand over the dash, patting her gently. Allowing his mind to wander a little, he pictured the car if he could get it clean and modified.

He wouldn't want a fancy paintjob. It would just be ruined if he ever managed to take it properly off-road. In fact, a plain black matte paint would suit him just fine. None of that pretty shit; it just took money away from the performance.

"You don't need to be fancy to look pretty, Baby."

The rear-end of the body would have to be removed entirely, and replaced with a specially-made fibreglass body panel that left the engine exposed. The engine, of course, would have to be updated.

"Trim up your booty…"

He glanced over his right shoulder before merging. It took a honked horn and a quick swerve for him to realise that he had glanced over the wrong shoulder automatically. Waving a sheepish hand, he offered the other driver a small smile. They gave him the finger in response. He shrugged, knowing he deserved it. Paying a little more attention to the road rather than his own thoughts, he drifted back into his imagination.

The running boards would be gone as well, to accommodate the shortened wings. The roll cage in the car he remembered had been fitted so that there was no room for the backseats anymore, but Dominic was certain that he could find someone to work it so he could still have the space back there.

"Have to have somewhere spare to crash, just in case, don't I, Baby?"

The stock suspension should be alright, as long as there was nothing wrong with it, but the entire car would have to be raised so he could fit off-road wheels and tires. Big, chunky ones that would handle the loose gravel easily. He was so lost in his imagination that the feeling of the cooler air coming off the river startled him.

The bright sunlight reflected off the lake, but the breeze was _wonderful_. Dominic sighed happily, resting his arm on the window and waving his fingers a little. The breeze off the lake was one of the reasons he was heading out towards Tidal Springs. The hills there were relatively secluded, if you could find a way up into them. Dominic had gone exploring in his first few weeks and discovered the road the construction workers had been using.

Stilwater was apparently set to expand within the next five years, according to the Mayor's office. Who knew what the Mayor had planned, but there was construction all over Saints Row as well. The path he used was relatively well-hidden from the road, and was inaccessible by car. Or, at least, inaccessible with the car he was currently driving. She had potential, but was nowhere near at her best right now. He untwisted the wires, cutting the engine. Patting the dash again, he smiled.

"Wait for me, Baby. Won't be long."

The path was well-worn. He knew there were a couple of hundred construction workers who used it daily, and he tried his best to avoid them each time he came here. It was worth it for the view, however.

"Hey, Lin! Wait up!"

Dominic froze. His mind raced, trying to remember just whose territory he was currently in. No matter whose it was, he knew he probably shouldn't get caught. The sound of heavy footsteps got nearer each second as he stood there, just frozen in place. His heart thudded and his fists clenched.

"Catch up. Not my fault you're slow."

The woman's voice had an uninterested tone to it. They hadn't rounded the small bend ahead that would expose his presence to them yet, but Dominic was unsure of where to hide. Or even if there was anywhere _to_ hide. He looked around frantically, but saw only small bushes. Quickly, he turned and began to make his way back down the path.

"Hey!"

His heart sank. Ignoring the shout, he kept moving.

"Hey, kid!"

He began to jog down the path as the sound of running footsteps reached his ears. There had to be three or four of them, not odds he liked too much. His feet skidded on loose gravel, causing him to slide.

"Hey, kid! Stop!"

Fingers brushed his elbow, but he shook them off. He continued to slip and slide down the path, using his momentum to his advantage. It wasn't fast enough, however.

"Gottim!"

The hand finally managed to close around Dominic's bicep. He twisted, but the man who had grabbed him had a strong grip. A flash of blue out of the corner of his eye told him he had been wandering mindlessly through Rollerz territory. A second man came up behind him and grabbed his other arm, turning him so he was facing up the path.

"Lookit what we got, Lin!"

"You representin', kid?"

Dominic frantically shook his head, his hands coming up as far as possible, presenting his palms in a show of peace. His eyes flicked all around, searching for an escape route, if the opportunity rose.

"He ain't no gangbanger."

A tall Asian woman came down the path towards him. She held her head high, looking as though she thought herself above everyone around her. Her hair was up in a tight bun and she was clad in Rollerz blue. Never looking anywhere but straight at Dominic, she ran her eyes over him, clearly assessing him. Dominic lowered his gaze.

"Look at me!"

It was a command. Nerves fluttered through him and his hands flexed. His fight or flight reflex had kicked in and was screaming at him to _run_. But there was no chance he could manage that. Not without a fight first. Taking a deep breath, he raised his eyes to meet hers.

"Are you afraid of us, kid?"

Dominic glanced around. Besides the woman, he was surrounded by four others. He had the ability to defend himself, but not against that many people. Pressing his lips together, he swallowed hard.

"He is, look at him!"

"Fucking terrified, he is!"

"Does the little boy wanna run home to mommy?"

The men all laughed. The woman, however, kept her gaze locked with Dominic's.

"We can't let you go, you know."

Dominic's chest clenched. His jaw tightened and his eyes briefly closed.

"We _ain't_ lettin' 'im go, ya mean?"

The two men holding him weren't the largest out of the group. In fact, Dominic was almost certain he could overpower them, but it was the others he had to worry about. This wasn't a movie, where people patiently waited their turn to beat up the stranger. No, he was about to suffer a beatdown at the hands of four people. Five, if the woman decided to join in. The woman moved closer, her eyes still on his.

"Even if you're not representin', you can't just walk through _our_ territory like you own it." This received both murmurs and whoops of appreciation from the others. She wasn't done yet, though. "You'll remember this day, won't you? You'll remember that the Westside Rollerz aren't to be fucked with."

That seemed to be the signal the others were waiting for. The largest of the group stepped up and slugged Dominic in the stomach, doubling him over. The pain was unbelievable. His eyes watered as he gasped for air, his lungs burning. He couldn't manage to get a breath before the next blow fell. They took it slow, though, each taking a turn to land a hard blow to his ribs or back. When Dominic fell to the ground, they all laughed.

"Does the little boy want his mommy?"

Dominic gasped, breathing in the dust of the path as well as air. He coughed, sending another jolt of pain flashing through him. He pushed up, however, trying to regain his feet.

_Can't defend yourself if you're on your face on the ground, moron._

The loose gravel and dust made it difficult to stand firmly, but he managed it. He staggered, glancing around to catch where each of them was. Circling him, they jeered, taunting him, trying to convince him to take a swing. Dominic knew better, however.

_Never swing first. Get the measure of your opponent first._

He may not have had any professional lessons, but he could swing a fist as well as the next person used to having to defend themselves on the street. Raising his arms, he placed his forearms in front of his face and chest.

"Oh, lookit that! Thinks he's a boxer now!"

Two of the men stepped forward. One of them began swinging even before Dominic was within arm's reach. He was easy to dodge. Dominic slapped a hand on his shoulder blade as he passed, sending him stumbling away. The other managed to connect, however. His fist cracked into Dominic's ribs, causing him to grunt in pain again. Without thinking, Dominic twisted his hips, putting as much power behind the punch as possible, and swung his fist.

"Fuck!"

The man crumbled to the ground, his hands cradling his head. Dominic had no idea just where he had managed to hit, but he would take it. The sight of their friend on the ground in pain, however, spurred the others on. Fists and feet flew, each of them connecting with at least one part of Dominic's body. He was soon overwhelmed. He fell, wheezing, to the ground, his arms up protectively around his head.

"That's enough." Dominic barely heard the woman above the grunting of the others. "I said, that's _enough_!"

It took a couple of seconds for Dominic to realise that they had stopped hitting him. He lay curled into a ball on the gravel path, his breath coming in short gasps. His body thrummed with pain, seemingly in time to his heartbeat.

"Have you had enough?"

Dominic's hands clenched as anger flooded through him at her gentle, mocking tone. Again, without thinking, he lashed out, trying to connect with any part of her he could reach. He missed, of course. She tsked at him, clicking her tongue.

"Not smart, kid."

Hands grabbed him by the biceps, hauling him to his feet. It was still difficult to breathe, and he automatically tried to double over again. The two men who had grabbed him didn't allow it.

The woman stood before him, her top lip curled in distaste. He didn't even see the punch coming. She must have been wearing a ring of some kind, however, because the pain that flashed through his head wasn't that of just being punched. When he dropped to the ground, he felt the side of his left eye, right by his temple. He couldn't help a small gasp as his fingers came away bloody.

"Maybe next time you want to enter Rollerz territory, you'll think twice."

The sound of laughter was all Dominic could hear as they moved on down the path. He stayed where he was for long minutes, just trying to catch his breath. When he raised his head, the sun was beginning to set. Setting his jaw, he shoved himself to his feet. Everything ached, from his ankles right up to his head. Wrapping his arms around his torso, he began to stagger back down the path.

One thing was now clear to him. Tomorrow, he decided there and then, he would be going to that church.


	3. A Painful Introduction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case anyone was wondering, the car Dominic was describing in the last chapter is a Baja Bug. Because the Ant in game is clearly a VW Beetle, I figured he would want to customise his own. :)

There had been a small crowd gathering out the side of the rundown church for a while. Dominic stood across the road, leaning his hips on the car he had nicked the day before, just observing.

Men and women both were standing around. Some of them talked in loud voices, some just stood off to the side, watching the others. None of them seemed really dangerous. It looked like a group of mismatched people standing around who just so happened to all be wearing the same shade of purple. There was nothing organised about them at all. There was also apparently no leader there yet. He couldn't see either Driving Cap or Pretty Boy there, and he had to assume that they had at least close to leadership roles in this whole thing. Especially considering the authority Driving Cap had spoken with. Wrapping his arms around his middle, he decided to wait it out, see what happened.

His ribs gave a jolt when he adjusted his stance, reminding him of the reason he had decided to join. A couple of painkillers that morning had taken care of the headache the cut on his left temple had caused, but there was no helping his ribs. Bruises in differing shades of blacks and purples had formed on his torso overnight, most of them fist- or knuckle-shaped. He figured that he had also breathed a bit too much of the dust from the gravel path, because his lungs burned a little each time he breathed in. Overall, he was in shitty condition. He grunted as he shifted his position again, trying to get comfortable. Maybe they wouldn't even want him to join, once they got a look at his face?

"Yo, Jason!"

Dominic's eyes were drawn to the end of the street. A group of men were crossing the road slowly, swaggering a little as they walked. The one in the lead was gesturing, a wide smile on his face. He looked…

Dominic shook his head, a small, slightly confused smile crossing his face. Perhaps there were some differences in fashion between America and England that he would never get used to. The man wore a purple cap that Dominic had only ever seen on little old ladies who were attending Wednesday night bingo. And he wore it _sideways_.

"Dex!"

A figure emerged from the group in the churchyard. The two clasped hands and pulled each other into a one-armed embrace. Dominic's eyebrows rose slightly. He'd nearly forgotten how physical Americans could be. Before he had arrived in Stilwater, no one had assumed that it was fine for them to just _hug him_. It was awkward as fuck the first time it had happened, and he figured it would continue to be. Especially since this appeared to be a fairly common form of greeting here. His attention drifted from Bingo Cap and his group and returned to the group in the churchyard.

The people there just milled around. Occasionally, as it had happened with Bingo Cap, one person would stand out to him, but in general, they were all the same. Wannabe gangbangers, all wearing clothing too baggy for them – or too tight in the women's cases – and carrying weapons stuffed into their waistbands. It wasn't until the front doors to the church opened slightly and someone new stepped out that Dominic _really_ started paying attention.

Sunlight reflected off Pretty Boy's hair, causing it to shine. He bent his head, cupping his hands against the slight breeze to light a smoke. When he raised it again, his eyes were closed. A tiny tilt of his lips sent a rush of warmth through Dominic's chest. He took a deep drag before leaning back against the church wall. The smoke issued out his nose, his eyes reopening. He looked relaxed, not the nervous wreck he had been the last time Dominic had seen him. Home turf did wonders, apparently. Dominic licked his lips. Relaxation was a good look on him.

"Troy?"

Dominic jumped. The tension returned immediately to Pretty Boy's shoulders and his brows drew down into a deep scowl. He took another drag from the cigarette before thunking his head back against the stone behind him.

"Troy!"

"Yeah, yeah."

He yanked the smoke out of his mouth and stubbed it out on the stone. Withdrawing a pack from his back pocket, he put the remains back in, clearly meaning to relight it later. Just as he was pushing off the wall, he glanced across the road. Dominic's insides shivered as their gazes connected. Pretty Boy – _Troy_ , apparently – raised his head and cocked an eyebrow, almost the same gesture he had made the other night. This time, Dominic didn't glance away. Troy gave a slightly crooked half smile just before he re-entered the church.

_Holy shit._

Dominic dropped his gaze to the road. Was he being _flirted_ with? By a man who had literally spoken one word to him? This was unexpected. Then again, he considered, was it really unwelcome? This Troy was… Well, he wasn't the I-want-to-jump-you, need-it-now, so-sexy-it-hurts kind of attractive Dominic had found in other people. He was _pretty_. Kind of like when he had been a teenager and he had gotten a glimpse of the boy bands that had been so prolific in the nineties. People like Ronan Keating, or Kavana: the floppy-haired, teen heartthrob look. The pounding of his heart against his ribs told him that maybe he _wanted_ to be flirted with as well.

Flicking his tongue, he pressed the ball of his piercing between his lips and shook his head. That was not a route he wanted his thoughts going down at that moment. Whatever was going to happen once he crossed the street, he didn't need to be distracted like this. Tightening his arms around his ribs sent pain shooting through him, but he did it anyway. It helped him to focus.

Images from the day before drifted through his mind. Fists connecting with his stomach and chest. Boots flying towards his face as he lay in the dust. One right hook that ended with him lying curled into a ball in the gravel, barely breathing for fear of hurting himself further. His lips pressed together and he nodded. This felt right. Driving Cap had called his invitation to join this lot a 'solution' to the other gangs, and to Stilwater's problems. _Maybe_ he had been correct.

The churchyard wasn't very large. Dominic counted maybe four rows of gravestones and statues, all surrounded by cement paths. The statues were worn, and the writing on the gravestones illegible. Dried, trampled grass covered the graves themselves, but none of the church's graffiti had found its way to them. It seemed people had some respect for the dead here. Interesting. Moving slowly, he took a vacant space in the churchyard, making sure to stay away from anyone else there. It didn't take long for things to begin.

The side door of the church opened and Troy slipped out and down the steps. Dominic's eyes went immediately to him, watching as he grabbed the cigarette packet from his back pocket and relit the smoke he had stubbed out earlier. Once again, he didn't get to enjoy it, however, as Driving Cap followed him out of the church. Standing on the steps, he stared out over the gathered people.

His mere presence was enough for the entire churchyard of people to quieten. Dominic took a quick glance around, waiting to see just what would happen. A rush of excited murmuring went around the yard when Driving Cap walked down the steps and moved to stand with everyone else on even ground.

"Alright."

"Yeah, Julius!"

Dominic watched in fascination as the mood of the crowd shifted as soon as Driving Cap – Julius, if the man nearest to him was to be believed – was there with them. People shuffled their feet and cracked their knuckles, almost as though they couldn't stand still. They were all watching this Julius avidly.

"Every motherfucker here knows what we need to do," Julius began, his eyes scanning the crowd. "Those bitches be ridin' around, thinkin' they own these streets. I don't care what flags they're flyin' – Rollerz, Carnales, Vice Kings – no one's makin' this nigga scared to walk the Row. We 'bout to lock this shit down _right now_."

Dominic had to admit, he had a way with words. He spoke with a passion and conviction that was difficult to resist. With each sweep of his gaze out over the crowd, it felt as though he met each and every person's eyes. Dominic found himself standing a little straighter, breathing a little easier. Adrenalin coursed through him, and a small smile touched his lips.

"Alright! Yeah!"

"Fuck yeah!"

A man with bleached tips and glasses stepped in front of Dominic, his fist pumping the air. Several people turned to grin and shout with him, almost as though they had been waiting for their cue from him. The man turned, a wide smile on his face. When he noticed Dominic standing behind him, however, the smile faded. His eyes ran up and down Dominic's body. Dominic tensed, as though readying himself for a blow.

"Don't recognise _you_ ," he murmured, just quiet enough so that Dominic knew that Julius wasn't supposed to hear. The dangerous tone to his voice set Dominic's senses to high alert, but all Glasses did was turn to face Julius again. "Who the fuck's this guy?"

Julius shifted his weight. His gaze flicked between Glasses and Dominic a couple of times. "Troy and I found him. I was gonna see if he'd ride with us."

Glasses nodded. Glancing back at Dominic, he grinned. It sent a shiver down Dominic's spine, and _not_ in a good way. Out of all the people in that churchyard that day, _this_ was the one person he would call dangerous. Cocky, full of himself, with a big mouth and an even bigger attitude. He was the type of person Dominic had learned to avoid. His muscles tensed, despite the pain in his torso, preparing him to either run or fight, whichever was needed. There was no need just yet, though, it seemed.

"Julius," Glasses began, a touch of amusement to his tone. "If he wants to run with the Saints, he's gotta be canonized."

_Canonized? Like a…_

Dominic's lips pressed together as the play on words caught up with him. To join these supposed Saints, he had to do something, clearly. But what? He glanced to Julius. It wasn't Julius who spoke, however.

"He's right, Julius," Troy muttered. "Everyone had to do it."

Dominic watched him, but Troy seemed to be avoiding looking his way. Julius and Glasses, however, had pinned him with looks that usually would have him trembling, and for very different reasons. While Julius looked almost fatherly and apologetic, Glasses was staring at him with a hunger that made him look feral.

"Yeah!" 

"Alright, let's get it on!"

Dominic glanced around the churchyard. The Saints were all moving backwards, forming a circle around him. He swallowed roughly.

"Blood in, blood out."

Surprise flittered through Dominic's mind. Even _he_ knew what that phrase generally meant. Julius merely gave him a small smile at the shouted phrase.

"Don't worry, kid. We aren't askin' you to kill no one. Yet."

He and Troy moved back towards the steps, with Glasses and Bingo Cap following them soon after. The circle surrounding Dominic widened. The reason dawned on him a couple of seconds later, causing his eyes to close briefly.

_Great. Fucking fantastic._

Two fistfights in two days. Clenching his hands, he stared determinedly up at Julius. His jaw tightened as nerves fluttered through him.

"You ready for this, Playa?"

The crowd suddenly began shouting. Dominic raised his hands, his eyes flicking all over the group. The first person to step forward was a shorter man. He swung his hands by his sides, grinning up at Dominic as he bounced on his toes.

"C'mon, then."

Dominic shook his head. No way was he making the mistake of swinging first again. He'd known it was stupid when he tried it with that woman the day before, and it would be stupid again here. His leg muscles tensed. The man swung his hands for a few more seconds before shrugging.

"Have it your way, bitch."

The punch he threw was easily dodged. Wild and uncontrolled, Dominic knew exactly how to avoid it. He thumped his elbow down between the man's shoulder blades as he stumbled past, sending him flying. A quick glance around the group told him that they had their instructions about this kind of thing, as they were all holding back. Alright. As long as he could avoid being hit too badly, this should be easy enough. They didn't look like they were going to dogpile him any time soon. Refocussing on the man he had sent sprawling, he raised his hands again.

"Get him!"

"Kick his ass!"

The man rose to his feet and charged. His fists flew at Dominic's head. Throwing an arm up, Dominic blocked him easily and delivered a blow, hard and fast, to his ribs. It was enough to wind him, he knew, and that was proven when the man stumbled back onto his arse. He waved his hand, and two others took his place.

This time, it was a heavy-set man, and a woman. Dominic took the sight of them in, judging that the woman was the greater threat. He could outrun and outmanoeuvre the man, if needed. She looked sharp, though. She eyed him up, her fists raised almost casually. While his attention was on her, the man took his chance.

Dominic grunted in pain as a heavy fist connected with his shoulder. The man put all his weight behind the punch, managing to stagger Dominic. A quick twist sent him crashing to the ground. Dominic was ready for the woman's attack, despite the distraction.

" _Fuck_ ," he snarled as he only just managed to catch her hand, the nails aimed at his eyes. "Bitch."

" _Fight me_ , you coward."

She lashed out with her other hand, slashing Dominic's forearm. He hissed and released her. She moved back a few steps, a grin on her face. Dominic bent, his attention half on her, half on the man now pushing himself to his feet. She was the first to move. Rushing him, her hands rose to eye level again. Dominic blocked her and, with another quick twist, placed the same hand on the back of her head, locking her forearms with his own and bending her over. He lashed out with his elbow towards the man, catching him on the jaw. He finished the woman off with a knee to the stomach.

He was panting heavily, his ribs aching. It wasn't over yet, though. Two men – both taller than him by a good three inches at least – stepped forward. One was skinny and seemed to be no threat, but the other was built like a brick shithouse. Dominic swallowed, his gaze automatically flicking back to where Julius stood on the steps. When all that happened was the two men moving towards him, Dominic took the hint.

_Keep going._

Sweat dripped down his forehead and into his eyes. A line of blood trailed from the nail marks on his forearm. His ribs and lungs ached from the day before. Even his knee, which hadn't given him too much grief until now, had decided to twinge with pain. Still, he raised his arms.

"Get him!"

"C'mon, fight!"

The skinnier man grinned at Dominic, but stayed where he was. It was the other man who attacked first. Taking a step forward, he swung his arm, aiming for Dominic's head. If it hadn't been for his quick reflexes, he would have connected squarely with the side of his jaw. A knockout blow.

Dominic ducked. He could have sworn that he could feel a breeze from the blow as the man's arm sailed over his head. Taking advantage of his crouched position, Dominic used the momentum he got from standing to launch an uppercut to the man's chin. He heard a crunch and a deep groan as the man fell. Dominic didn't stop to see whether he would get back up.

_One to go? Hopefully._

The skinny man eyed Dominic carefully. His feet moved quickly, changing position fast enough that it was more of a distraction than the crowd surrounding them. They circled around each other warily.

"Get on with it!"

The man grinned again. "Whaddya say, kid?"

Dominic tilted his head to the side. His arms now guarded his ribs instead of his face. He didn't even want to think about the state his knuckles were in. What was the man asking?

"Give up now. Save your dignity."

A quick glance to Julius told Dominic that that wasn't a real option. Standing with his arms crossed, Julius watched Dominic intently, his eyebrows drawn down. If Julius had wanted it to be, this fight would have been over well before now. No, he was being judged. Returning his attention to the man before him, he crooked a finger in a 'come here' gesture.

"Oh, you in for it, now, you little punk."

He was fast. His fists landed lightly, but often. Dominic tried to guard against the assault, but there was just no chance. The man almost danced around him. One hand got in past his defences, and that was it. Dominic's knees hit the ground with a crack. Pain shot through him, combining with panic. Would the man stop? Who decided when it was enough? The crowd surrounding them cheered the man on.

"Get him!"

"Kick! Kick him!"

Fear flashed through Dominic's chest, pure and solid. The man advanced again, a gleam in his eyes. He raised his fist, no doubt to finish Dominic off. Fuelled by panic, Dominic reached up and grabbed the collar of the man's t-shirt. Yanking as hard as he could, he ducked as the man fell forward. A sickening _crunch_ echoed through the churchyard as his face connected with a gravestone. Dominic pushed himself to his feet and staggered away from the man, who was now lying on the ground, groaning.

"What–?"

" _How_ did he…?"

Breathing heavily, Dominic wrapped an arm around his ribs, placing the other on a statue to balance himself out. It took a couple of seconds for the crowd to realise just what had happened. When they did, though, they began to crowd around him.

Hands landed on his shoulders and back as people moved in to congratulate him. He tried hard to not wince in front of them when the pain began to get to him. The crowd moved, pushing to the sides as someone made their way through them.

"You earned your colours today."

Troy stepped forward first, pulling Dominic into one of those one-armed embraces. His ribs chose that moment to throb, just as Troy's hand landed on his back. He couldn't help the flinch he gave in response.

"Hey." Troy waited until Dominic met his eyes before continuing, his voice low. "I ain't gonna hurt you, kid. You did good."

He stepped back a little then, his eyes shifting off to Dominic's right. Dominic followed his gaze. Bingo Cap was next to congratulate him. Moving through the crowd, he offered a small smile as he stepped forward.

"That's some impressive shit," he stated, his eyes running over Dominic, almost as though he was assessing him somehow. "The only other Saint who kicked ass like that was Johnny."

"Shit, took me _half_ the time."

Dominic turned in time to see Glasses grinning at him. He nodded in recognition to the both of them just as they stepped away so Julius could move in. Standing straight, with a look of approval in his eyes, he held out his fist. Dominic didn't hesitate to bump his own against it.

"Welcome to the Third Street Saints."


	4. Hope

The crowd – the Saints – began to mill around again as soon as Julius walked away from Dominic. They chatted and laughed together, the fight seemingly forgotten almost immediately. Leaning back against the statue again as soon as he was alone, Dominic sighed. Being the centre of attention was never fun, especially when it involved so many people. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to focus inwardly just a little.

His ribs throbbed and, now that the adrenalin rush was wearing off, so did his knees and hands. The slashes left by the woman's nails dripped blood sluggishly down his right forearm. Squinting his eyes open again, he sighed. He swiped it against his jeans, leaving red streaks over his hip and dirt in the cuts. He should probably make an escape so he could clean himself up, he knew, but the idea of moving any significant distance was off-putting at that moment. Although, he also knew that if he just stayed there, letting himself cool down, he would ache much worse than if he moved right then. It wasn't until he heard a deep, pained-sounding grunt, though, that his attention was drawn away from himself.

A quick glance around showed him that the man he had smashed into the gravestone had managed to partially sit up. Dominic winced when he got a look at his face. His nose was bloodied, and one eye looked like it was beginning to swell. Blood stained his lips as well, although whether that was due to his nose or a cut on his lips, Dominic couldn't tell. Guilt washed through him, prickling his skin through the layer of drying sweat. His conscience began to nag at him as he watched the man struggle to pull himself up with the aid of the gravestone. No one else seemed likely to help him, distracted as they were with their own conversations.

His natural inclination to avoid people warred with the urge to apologise for the injury. His school teachers had tried to instil a decent moral code in him, even if his father had not, and it seemed to be winning the internal battle he was fighting. It was seeing the man grimace in pain that finally made the decision for him. Pushing off from the statue, he made his way slowly through the crowd, still avoiding bumping into anyone.

"'sup holmes," the man began as soon as he spotted Dominic heading towards him. "Helluva move. Where'd you learn that?" He lisped a little, blood spraying from his lips.

Dominic let out a surprised breath, distracted from his mission to apologise. "Where'd I learn to fight dirty?"

"Ain't dirty if it saves you from gettin' your head smashed in, is it? And I was gonna, don't think I wasn't." Huffing out a breath sprayed more blood from the man's lips. He frowned in disgust, bushy black brows curving down over his dark eyes. "Name's Alejandro. Call me Alex. I usually fight better than that."

Dominic brushed their fingers together in a sort-of shake when Alex offered his hand. Anxiety flooded him, but he took a deep, steadying breath and tried to force himself to unclench his jaw. This man was not a danger anymore. Not to him, anyway. Kneeling down caused him to wince again, but he ignored the pain. It seemed like he was going to have to get used to it, anyway, if this was any indication of how these people lived their lives.

"Dominic. _I_ usually try to avoid smashing complete stranger's faces into gravestones." He smiled when Alex laughed. "Sorry 'bout that, by the way. You need a hospital or somthin'?"

"Nah." Alex shook his head and waved a hand off to Dominic's right. "We got us a medic. Been trainin' just long enough to know how to fix up our broken bits."

"That'd be easier to do if y'all'd stop smashin' each other up every day."

The voice was low and feminine, with such a strong southern accent that Dominic had trouble understanding her properly. He followed Alex's hand to see a woman standing behind him. She couldn't have been much over five feet, with a shock of bright red hair cropped close to her head. The clothing she wore would have looked much more at home on one of the blokes rather than a girl: baggy, faded blue jeans, a purple singlet, and clunky combat boots. Multiple piercings glittered from various places on her face, and bangles clinked on her wrists. The medical kit she carried looked at least ten years old, scuffed and worn. Dominic's jaw tightened, clamping up as she shot a glare his way. His gaze automatically dropped to the ground at the thought that he had pissed her off somehow.

"This your doin'?"

Her tone was harsh, causing something deep inside him to flinch. He held back the physical reaction by sheer force of will, though.

_Don't show them any weakness._

"Hey," Alex barked, irritation clear in his voice, causing Dominic to nearly flinch again. "Leave him alone, Cat. My boy's just been canonized."

A heavy hand landed on Dominic's shoulder, preventing him from following his instincts and leaving. He glanced up automatically. Alex was grinning at him, blood now staining his teeth and dripping off his chin. Dominic couldn't help grinning back, despite the nerves still trembling through his stomach.

A flash of denim out of the corner of his eye pulled Dominic's attention back to the woman as she knelt down on Alex's other side and opened the medical kit. He swallowed down the urge to push himself up and leave as she clicked her tongue, sounding disappointed.

"You got your ass kicked by the new kid?"

Surprise hit Dominic in the chest, widening his eyes and causing him to blink rapidly. The woman's head was bent over the kit, but there was the hint of a smile on her lips.

"Damn right I did. And, if he hadn't stopped me, it'd be _his_ face you're fixin' up. 'Cuz I wasn't gon' stop 'til he was _done_." He shot Dominic another bloodstained grin. "Saints tradition, kid. You'll get used to it."

"Not sure I wanna _get used to_ havin' people wanna beat me up," he mumbled in response, a small smile touching his lips.

_Not now that I'm out of school, anyway._

"Well then, you just gonna have ta get good enough that they miss, ain't ya?"

Dominic could feel his smile widening, despite himself. He had been a punching bag for other people long enough to know that _no one_ was good enough to avoid being beaten on for long. There would always be someone, somewhere who wanted to beat the crap out of you. And no amount of popularity was enough to make them change their minds. No one was _that_ popular, not in his experience, anyway. Shifting his weight to get comfortable, he sat down in the dirt beside Alex, his right arm draped over his raised knee.

"You offerin' to teach me?"

It wasn't Alex who responded with a scoff, but the medic. Dominic glanced up in time to see her rolling her eyes.

"You don' want this one teachin' you _nutin'_ , kid." She shook her head. "He'll get yer ass shot."

"C'mon, Cat, I ain't that bad."

"Says the man spittin' blood."

The medic glanced over at Dominic, who was watching the interaction with widening eyes. She rummaged in the medical kit for a few seconds before withdrawing what looked to be a length of paper towel and a swab of some kind.

"Here, kid. Those scratches need disinfecting, 'less you wanna be my next patient. Give yer knuckles a go as well." She watched him as he reached for the paper and wipe, her eyes narrowing. "Seen someone 'bout those ribs?"

Dominic froze, his hand hovering just in front of the wipe she held. His tongue stud flicked out between his lips before he could stop himself. His mind raced, wondering just how she had worked out that there was something wrong with his ribs before remembering she was a trained – at least partially – medic. He shook his head as he took the wipe.

"Nah. Not broken."

"What happened?"

Alex sounded genuinely curious, his brows drawing down once again. Dominic refocussed on him as he began cleaning the cuts on his arm. It was easy to read the expressions on his face, despite the mangled, bloodstained nose, which Dominic was thankful for. Easy-to-read people rarely hid anything. Dominic shrugged.

"Ran inta some'a those Rollerz. They didn't like me."

"Psh. Those bitches don' like _anyone_. Don' take it personal."

Dominic offered a small smile. "Wasn' gonna." Swiping the disinfecting wipe along the scratches, he offered a one-shouldered shrug. "They won't like me even more now I'm with you lot."

"Do you good to remember that."

Dominic glanced up to see the medic watching him, her gaze inscrutable. He nodded slowly, resisting the urge to flick the tongue stud out again.

_I've created more trouble for myself by joining you. Got it._

She continued to watch him as he moved the swab to clean the dirt and drying blood from his knuckles. Dominic frowned, beginning to become uncomfortable under her gaze.

"Sumthin' wrong?"

She shook her head. "Yer prolly older than you look. You know the world by now. Way it works. You know what yer in for, getting' in wit' us." Holding a now-gloved hand out, she took the used wipe from him. "Catriona. On'y me ma calls me that, tho'."

Dominic nodded. "Dominic."

"Well, Dom, I gotta see to this idiot."

He knew a dismissal when he heard one. Nodding, he winced a little as he shoved himself to his feet.

"Nice to meet you. And," he added just before turning, "Alex? Really am sorry 'bout that."

"Nah, man." Alex held a hand out, slapping their fingers together. "Never apologise to someun' who was gonna do the exact same to you. Catch ya 'round."

Something warm slithered through Dominic's stomach as he made his way slowly through the crowd back towards the statue he had been leaning against a few minutes before. It wasn't an _unfamiliar_ sensation, so much as a _missed_ one. He had not had any friends back home since school and, even then, he doubted… He shook his head. No point in dwelling on that now.

Alex had been friendly, despite the fact that Dominic had smashed his face onto a gravestone and possibly broken his nose. That warmth was a sensation that he was unused to feeling. It sent alarm bells ringing in the back of his mind, but he tried to ignore them. He _wanted_ to believe that Alex was truly that friendly. The medic – Cat, Alex had called her – as well. They seemed like good people, even if they were part of a gang.

You _are part of a gang now as well now, dumb arse._

Dominic's eyes slid closed again as he leant back against the statue, his arms wrapped once again around his ribs. A gang. It hadn't taken him long. He sighed.

_Father would find this amusing._

Dominic wasn't the 'type' to get in with this sort. His father would have been, back when he was young, from what he could tell. Not that he had told Dominic much about what he had been like when he was a kid. He wasn't – _hadn't been_ – the chattiest person. Dominic didn't even know all that much about his mother, other than the fact that she had been born in Stilwater, and that he had inherited her medium-brown skin tone. He liked to imagine that she had been nice and kind and all the things that mothers were supposed to be but, considering the kind of place Stilwater was turning out to be, he was beginning to doubt the idea. It wasn't until the sounds of people talking around him began to quieten that he dragged himself out of his own head.

Glancing around, he took in the sight of all the gathered Saints turning to face the church steps. He cocked an eyebrow, but it soon became clear what was happening. Julius stood in front of them all, his hands raised as though to grab their attention.

"Let's get down to business."

His tone was serious. Dominic watched as the Saints all stilled, each of them watching Julius intently. The kind of command this man had over people with just a few words was fascinating. Pushing off the statue, Dominic moved so he was standing in the middle of a cleared space between groups of people.

"If we're serious about takin' back the Row, we gotta let those motherfuckers know what time it is," Julius began, pacing back and forth on the steps. He glanced around, meeting people's eyes for brief seconds before moving on. Dominic smiled. "Now, you break it down, and it's all about respect. Get enough of it, they're gonna back off, and we're gonna move right on in."

Julius' voice rose a little as he spoke. Feet shuffled, accompanied by small murmurs of agreement as he worked the Saints up. Even Dominic felt a spike of adrenalin as Julius met his eyes, a fire blazing in his gaze as he continued.

"We got some friends in town that could use some help. Give 'em a hand. 'Course, you can always drop any motherfucker flyin' the wrong flag. So long as word gets out that the Saints is on the Row, I don't give a damn _how_ you do it. You feel me?"

The crowd of people erupted in a chorus of cheers. Some punched the air, others cracked their knuckles. All of them were grinning widely. Unable to help it, Dominic grinned at the people nearest to him when they glanced back at him.

"Fuck yeah, let's get going!"

Some of the Saints immediately left the graveyard. They were still cheering and slapping each other on the back. Dominic's eyes followed them, wondering just how they knew exactly what they were supposed to be doing. The rest of the group began mingling again. When no one spoke to him, he assumed that it was fine for him to leave. He was in desperate need of a shower, anyway. Just as he reached the edge of the graveyard, however, a voice stopped him.

"Hey, Playa."

He turned, Julius' voice carrying enough weight with him now that he didn't dare ignore him. Still standing on the steps of the church, Julius nodded to him, indicating that he should move closer. The Saints still milling around the graveyard didn't move, so Dominic took the long way around, rather than elbowing his way through. When he reached the steps, Troy was waiting with Julius. He swallowed as nerves flashed through him once again.

"Time to get your feet wet."

He held out a closed fist, but it was clear that he wasn't going for another fist bump, as before. Dominic frowned, but held his hand out anyway. When Julius unceremoniously plonked a rolled-up wad of money into his hand, he began to stutter, his nerves forgotten momentarily.

"What? N-no – I…"

But Julius was already turning away, making his way back into the church. "Troy will fill you in."

Dominic's eyes widened. He flicked his gaze to where Troy was watching him with an amused smirk. The money in his hand… it had to be _hundreds_ of dollars. He shook his head and tried to give it to Troy. Carrying that amount of cash was _never_ a good idea.

"Take it. I – I don't…"

Troy's smirk turned into a grin. "Calm down, kid. The money's yours. Prize pool for winning."

"Winning?" His eyes flicked automatically back to where Alex had sat next to the gravestone, noting that he had moved. "But…"

He jumped when a hand landed on his shoulder. Turning back, his breath stuttered a little as he looked up to meet Troy's eyes. They were a brown so dark they looked nearly black in the afternoon light. His tongue stud flicked out as nerves flashed through him again. It had been a while since he had had to look _up_ to meet the eyes of someone he… Clearing his throat, he stepped back, putting some space between them.

"Julius took bets during the fight, kid. _This_ is your portion, after everyone else got their winnings." Troy shifted his weight, taking another deep drag of the cigarette in his mouth. "We gonna put it to use, as well."

Dominic's brows drew down. They were going shopping? Before he could make an idiot out of himself and voice the question, however, Troy grinned at him again.

"You look like shit, though, kid. Dunno what kinda trouble you got yourself into since we saw ya last, but you need to rest. Can't have ya keelin' over on me, can I?" He stepped close enough to slap Dominic on the back, grin still firmly in place. "Meet me back here tomorrow, say lunchtime? Twelve?"

Dominic swallowed. Lunch. With Troy. A date? Frowning again, he forced himself to nod.

"Good." The hand on his back moved to squeeze his shoulder. "Go home. Sleep, get drunk, get high; I don't care. Just don't get into anymore shit just yet, a'ite?"

Dominic nodded again, feeling slightly overwhelmed. Troy gave him a bit of a shove, pushing him towards the exit of the graveyard. Stumbling through the crowd, he shook his head. This had been a really fucking weird week.


	5. Lin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the huge delay between chapters. The world is nuts right now, as everyone knows. :)
> 
> I know I read somewhere that Troy's undercover surname was Johnson, I think. But these games are so full of dick jokes that I just couldn't face naming one of my main characters after yet another one. So, I gave him a random, plain name that made sense to me.

Cigarette smoke trailed slowly up towards the ceiling. The apartment stank of it, the tops of the walls and the ceiling stained an ugly yellow. Lin knew she should open the window to the fire escape and air the room out. She wasn't going to, however. Her parents would have been disappointed in her, but… She shrugged. They were dead. Too bad. Stretching her arms over the end of the sofa she lay on, she tried to work some of the kinks out of her shoulders.

It had been an interesting week. Whoever that kid had been who had wandered into Rollerz territory had been necessary. Regrettable, but necessary. She knew that some members of the Rollerz had been doubting her loyalty to them over recent weeks. Perhaps what she had done to him – and what she had allowed the others to do – would help to cement her position further? The men who had been with her wouldn't forget it, that was for sure. There weren't that many chances for the Rollerz to exert their so-called dominance over the people in their territory, so it had been an opportunity that she couldn't afford to waste. 

It had taken her a month to get in with the Westside Rollerz, and even longer for them to trust her. Despite them being a relatively new gang, they had their pride, she would give them that. Julius had asked her to try to grab their attention four months previously, back before summer had kicked in properly. It had taken more than just driving ability, though. Not that she lacked there – hell, she could probably outdrive the lot of them – but it had been necessary to prove that she could fit in with them and their lifestyle. Popping her shoulders over the arm of the sofa, she scoffed.

_Lifestyle my ass._

Getting drunk or high and racing? _Not_ a lifestyle she had thought she would ever have to fall back on. The Saints were her ticket out of that shit. Julius had made her promises; promises that she was going to make absolutely fucking _certain_ he made good on. When he'd plucked her out of the Chinatown racing scene, he'd filled her head with all kinds of images of power and control. She'd been restless and lost. Julius had seen that; seen it and capitalized. She wasn't just going to be the girl driver from Chinatown. No, she was going to be _known_. A soft click from her front door dragged her out of her thoughts.

She didn't sit up. No use in alerting whoever was picking her lock to the fact that she knew they were there. One hand moved to the side, however, reaching under the sofa. She moved slowly as the quiet _chunk_ of the door opening seemed to echo through the silence of the room. She kept her other hand casually draped over the arm of the sofa, not moving at all.

There were no footsteps, but she knew just where the person must be. The short hall of her apartment led only in two directions: straight ahead to the bathroom, and to the right into the living room. The back of the sofa she lay on faced the doorway, concealing the person from her.

Her hand found the handle of her gun, and she wrapped her fingers around it securely. Adrenalin flooded her, tensing her muscles and shortening her breaths. She strained her ears, hoping to be able to hear just _one_ sound indicating where the person was. Before she could, though, a set of fingers laced through with the ones of the hand she had still dangling over the arm of the sofa. She sucked in a breath through her teeth, surprise causing her to bring the gun up and point it in the direction she thought her attacker was. A hand wrapped around hers, pointing the gun at the ceiling.

"Psh, put that thing down. You ain't gonna shoot me."

Lin's breath rushed out of her in a huff. Ripping the gun out of Troy's hand, she flipped it around and aimed the butt at his head.

"You fucking moron! I could'a shot you!"

"Not with the safety on, ya couldn't've."

"Wha–?"

Lin's eyebrows drew down into a deep scowl as Troy used the hand he held to try to force her to sit up on the sofa. The safety _wasn't_ on, but the words had forced her to remove the gun from within striking distance of him, which she figured must have been his aim. Following the tug on her hand, she sat up, giving him just enough space to flop down on the opposite end of the sofa, a smug grin on his face.

"Asshole."

"Eh, you love me." His grin widened when Lin rolled her eyes. "Good ta see you not wearin' blue."

With a groan, Lin allowed her head to fall back against the arm of the sofa. Taking a deep breath, she made sure the safety really was on before tossing the gun onto the coffee table in front of the sofa.

"I have _never_ been so glad that Julius snagged me before I could get in with that lot for real."

"That bad?"

Raising her head, Lin eyed him. She knew that Troy wasn't as dumb as he made himself out to be. He wouldn't have made it as far as he had with Julius if he had been. And she trusted him. In fact, she trusted him with her life; had on more than one occasion in the past already. He'd become almost like the big brother to her that she had never known she wanted.

"Lin?"

Shaking her head, she scrunched her face at him. "I do love you, you know. You big loser."

Moving before he could react, she crawled over the top of him off the sofa so she could make her way through to the fire escape. Opening the window let in some much-needed fresh air as well as some more light. The fire escape faced another building, almost close enough to touch. Turning, she shot Troy a grin.

"Coming?"

Lin didn't wait for his response. Stepping outside, she perched herself on the fire escape, stretching her legs in front of her. The fresh air was nice, a soft breeze ruffling her hair. She knew that the temperature would skyrocket in just a couple of hours, so taking advantage of the cooler air now was necessary. A soft thud grabbed her attention just before Troy made his way out through the window as well.

"Don't come here to be insulted, ya know," he muttered.

Copying her, he draped himself along the fire escape stairs beside her, stretching long legs out before him, with his head resting on one of the steps. Lin grinned and rolled her eyes.

"No, you come here because Julius told you to keep an eye on me. Make sure I'm not bein' converted."

Troy sighed. "He don' think you're _bein' converted_ , Lin. He's worried."

She raised an eyebrow and nudged him in the ribs. "Is he the only one?"

Troy met her eyes before snatching the end of her cigarette and finishing it off. "Besides Julius, _I_ am the only contact you have in the Saints. Julius hasn't even let _Johnny_ know what you're up to and you two grew up together. So, yeah. I worry." He lay back, one hand resting behind his head. "Can't have my girl gettin' hurt, can I?"

Warmth spread through Lin's chest. _This_ was the type of friendship that the Rollerz were missing. Sure, they all worked together when it came time to beat the shit outta some random kid, but beyond that? They didn't have each other's backs the way Troy had hers. But, she figured, she couldn't let the mood get sentimental. Pushing herself up a few steps, she copied Troy's posture, laying on the stairs and staring up at the next flight above her.

"I can't imagine why some lucky guy hasn't scooped you up yet."

He scoffed. "Because I am too damn old to be goin' out chasin' tail? When I go to a bar, I drink."

"Thirty-four isn't old, Troy."

"Thirty-four ain't _young_ , Lin."

She hummed. "You're objecting a lot. Maybe there's already someone? Someone I don't know about?" She was joking. Troy usually told her everything, even things she really didn't want to know. When he didn't react to her words, however, she raised her head. "Troy?"

He sighed and shifted uncomfortably. "There isn't."

"Troy Martin." Lin sat up, staring down at him. "Do _not_ fucking lie to me. You finally got yourself a man?"

"No. _No_ ," he added more forcefully when she thumped him on the shoulder. "I don't. There hasn't been anyone in over a year, I swear." He glanced up at her when Lin scoffed. "What?"

"So, we're not counting the redhead? The one who drank vodka out of coffee mugs?"

"Urgh." Troy sat up, his face scrunching. "No. He does not exist. In any way."

"Right. Because we all know you have _much_ better taste than that."

"'xactly." He grinned at her as he turned to rest back against the railing, facing her. "Is this why'm here? So you can grill me about my non-existent sex life?"

She returned the grin. "Tempting. But no." Drawing her legs up, she wrapped her arms around her knees, staring down at her bare feet. "We got the jump on some kid two days ago. Me and some of the Rollerz. Beat the shit outta him for bein' in 'our' territory. They're gettin' bolder. All this kid did was walk the construction site. Didn't provoke them at all. Tried to run, actually. I…" She paused, sighing.

"You helped 'em?"

She let a soft breath out of her nose. "I laid him flat. Had to stop the beatin' somehow. Don't think I knocked him out, 'cause he was still movin' on the ground. Still."

Troy was silent for a few seconds after she finished. When she glanced at him, though, there was a strange look in his eyes.

"Gimme a look."

He reached out, clearly asking for her right hand. Her lips quirked up at one corner before she showed him her knuckles.

"It was just one punch. There's no damage."

"Not to _you_ ," he muttered, causing her to frown.

"Huh?"

"This ring." Troy held her hand up, showing her the old silver ring she wore. "It'd do some damage, yeah? If it connected with skin?"

"I… dunno." Lin frowned again, pulling her hand back so she could examine the ring. There wasn't anything on there to indicate she had hurt the kid at all. "Why?"

Troy raised his hips so he could reach into his back pocket for a pack of cigarettes. He offered her one, which she took with a nod of thanks. He didn't answer until they had both lit up and were lying back on the stairs.

"Canonized someone new yesterday. Kid with dark skin, and a lotta bruises on his ribs." He paused, taking a deep drag and puffing the smoke out his nose. "Well, he moved like he was in pain. Also, a cut on his temple."

Lin watched as Troy tapped his own left temple. She glanced down at her ring, then back at him.

"You think it's the same kid?"

He shrugged. "Dunno. You beat the shit outta a black kid with a thick British accent?"

Something uncomfortable squirmed through Lin's stomach. "He didn't speak."

Had her actions – or, rather, _inaction_ – the other day caused someone to join the Saints in retaliation? Her brows drew down as she stared at the ring again. The Saints needed the numbers, there was no doubt about that. The question that had begun to nag at her, however, was whether she wanted to be the cause of someone joining? Recruiting someone would be different, but it sounded like she had given this kid no other choice. She had allowed someone to be beaten, and they had apparently reacted by joining a gang.

"Lin?"

She shook her head. There was no reason for her to be getting distracted like this. It wasn't like she knew the kid. Hell, it probably wasn't even the same person. Taking a deep drag on her cigarette, she hissed the smoke out between her teeth.

"We gotta have a bonfire. Get everyone together before we kick this shit off properly." She sat up, nudging Troy with her knee. "Julius gettin' you to clean the Row out, or did he give it to Johnny?"

He grunted as he pushed himself back into a sitting position. "Wants me ta take the new kid out today. Get him armed. If there's time, he wants us to take a look 'round. See if there's anyone hangin' 'round the Row who shouldn't be. But, it's Julius. He'll call me."

"He's got you babysitting the new guy?" Lin couldn't help the small sound of amusement she made through her nose. "Bit of a step down, huh? Goin' from Julius' second-in-command to… this?"

Troy shifted uncomfortably again, another frown creasing his forehead. "There's somethin' different about this kid, Lin. He took the beatin' yesterday an' was still standin' after. Not just standin', though." Turning, he met her eyes. "He damn near broke Alex's nose, _and_ took out four other Saints before him. All that while he was already hurtin'. He don' look like much, but…"

"So you got y'self a fighter. Tha's _good_ , Troy. We need people who can fight. Need 'em bein' able to stand up to the rest. We been takin' shit from everyone too long. 'bout time we gave some back."

Lin watched as Troy nodded slowly. He was still frowning, looking confused as hell. Tilting her head, she tried to get a better look at his eyes. It was rare for him to be able to hide anything from her, but before she could get a look, he gave himself a shake and glanced away.

"Yeah, I guess." Taking a deep draw on his smoke, he hissed between his teeth. "What's this about a bonfire?"

Lin grinned. "Been too long since we had one. Soon, I won't be able to join in, 'cause they'll shoot me for hangin' out with you lot. So we need to have one. On the beach. Invite _everyone_." She could meet this new kid. They could all hang out together, get drunk, get high, whatever they wanted. Could even go swimming if they wanted. It was still more than hot enough that the evenings were warm. One night to just relax together. "It'll be fun."

Troy nodded slowly. "Yeah, y'know, it would. I'll see what I can do." Stretching his arms up over his head, he cracked his neck before standing. "I'll tell Julius the Rollerz are movin' then? He'll wanna get together, all of us. Have a meetin', let ev'yone else know what yer up to."

"Yeah, I know." Lin stood as well and waved her hand towards the window. "It'll be soon, too. Can't leave it too long before tellin' Johnny. He'll know somethin's up."

They climbed back through the window. Lin chose to leave it open this time, just to let some fresh air in. Troy wandered slowly through the apartment, reaching for his pack again.

"Keep in touch, a'ite? You ain't in this alone, ya know."

Lin grinned. "Yeah, I know." She walked with him to the door. "Troy? Thanks."

The lopsided grin and wink he gave in response had her shaking her head. She gave him a light shove out the door before returning to her sofa. Sighing deeply, she fell back onto the cushions. Things were finally kicking off. About fucking time.


End file.
